Midnight Escapades
by brassband777
Summary: Teenchester! When John is away on a hunt, Sam sneaks out at night to go camping with his friends, but Dean discovers that he is missing. WARNING: contains spanking of a teenager - please do not read if this offends.


**Title****: Midnight Escapades**  
**Author****:** **brassband777**  
**Characters****: John (in flashback). Dean (17), Sam (13)**  
**Scenario****:** **teen!chester spanking**, **discipline fic **  
**Summary****:** **Sam sneaks out to go camping overnight with some friends, but Dean realises that he is missing.**

Thirteen-year-old Sam Winchester cautiously pushed back the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed, totally alert for any sounds of movement within the house. Dean, he knew had gone up to bed over an hour ago…..but Dean was a really light sleeper at the most inopportune of times. Sam didn't understand how his big brother could sleep through a blaring alarm clock and yet wake up at the tiniest creak if it was unexpected or unexplained. _Damn those hunting genes his brother had undoubtedly inherited!_

Sam knew that his whole plan hinged on him being able to leave the house (and return before dawn) without alerting his over-protective, guard dog of a big brother to the fact.

Under normal Winchester circumstances, his little planned midnight escapade would have been completely impossible. Usually they stayed in motel rooms or rundown apartments, which meat that he and Dean always shared a room. But the last couple of months they'd been living in a retired hunter's house while she was spending some time in Australia visiting her daughter who had emigrated there. Dad's friend, Bobby Singer had arranged for them to stay there while John completed all the hunts he could that were within reasonable travelling distance.

It was strange, Sam had always wished for the chance to have his own room, but once he'd achieved that dream, it hadn't been at all like he expected. Instead of relishing his freedom, he'd actually missed the constant of his brother's presence. It had taken a full month for Sam to become used to having his own space and to feel comfortable in it.

His dad was just unreasonable plain and simple. He wasn't a baby any more. He was a teenager now – he had turned thirteen two months ago – but his dad still insisted on treating him like a little kid. Sam remembered back to the argument he had had with his father a few days before, just before he set of on his most recent hunt.

FLASHBACK:

"Hey, Dad. Brady and Tony are going camping this weekend. Can I go?"

John looked up from the weapons that he was cleaning and studied his youngest for a moment. "Whose parents will be supervising and where are they planning on camping and for how long?"

"No-ones' parents are going. We're old enough to look after ourselves. We'll be camping in the forest for two nights, Friday and Saturday."

_To Sam's mind, there was no justifiable reason to say no – it was summer break and both of his friends were exactly the same age that he was, in fact, Tony was a month younger. So if they could go, why couldn't he?_ As a result, Sam was totally unprepared for his father's negative response.

John shook his head. "Sorry, Sammy, but no. You're too young to be out at night by yourself," he explained gently. John hated disappointing his children and he knew how his youngest especially craved spending time with his friends doing 'normal' things.

"What?" spluttered Sam, "I'm not too young, I'm not a baby! I can fight…..I can protect myself! They don't have any training, but they can go. How's that right? Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Sammy. It's the things out there…..the monsters, both the supernatural and the human kind, that I don't trust. And they're more active at night, you know that," John soothed.

"But it's not fair! Their parents are letting them," Sam argued.

John sighed. The two kids that Sam had made friends with seemed decent enough – they'd been over numerous times and had always been polite and well-behaved. But John didn't agree at all with the free rein that the boys were given. Both sets of parents were into some kind of progressive parenting crap where they allowed their children the freedom to make their own choices so that they could 'find themselves' and through experimentation, master the skills that would be essential in adult life. John couldn't understand how anyone could be taken in by such utter codswallop. He'd already had more than one argument with his youngest as a result of his friends' upbringing – once Sam had found out that neither of them had a curfew or a set bedtime, he had tried to convince John that he should be treated the same. Without success.

"Whatever Brady and Tony's parents decide to allow their children to do is their choice, Sam. But you're _my_ child and so _I_ get to decide the rules where you're concerned." Wanting to try and make it up to his youngest somehow, John continued, "Why don't you ask them to come and sleep over at ours the following weekend? You could have a movie marathon or somethin'."

Sam was not going to be placated. "I wish I was _their_ son! You can't do this!" he seethed.

John knew his youngest was angry and that he didn't mean what he said, but the words still hurt, as they made John think of all the ways that he _was_ failing his children by having dragged them into the hunting lifestyle.

"I'm sorry, Sammy, but it's final, you're not going," said John firmly, turning back to cleaning the weapons, not wanting to see the disappointment in Sam's eyes.

Sam then did something in temper that he'd not done since he was eight years old. As he stomped out of the room, he lashed out with his foot and kicked at the wall in frustration. The sound of Sam's sneakered foot connecting with the skirting board caused John to raise his head just in time to see the boy aim a second kick, only this time, Sam missed and kicked instead the large, ornate lamp that stood next to the doorway. It fell with an almighty crash, the decorative glass shade shattering on impact. Sam stared in horror at what he had done – this house didn't belong to some impersonal, uninterested landlord, no, it was someone's _home_ and that lamp might have meant a lot to them.

John was by his son's side in an instant, worried about the flying glass. "Are you hurt, Sammy?" He gave his errant child a visual once over.

Sam shook his head. "No, Dad. I'm really sorry."

"You will be in a minute," responded John grimly, taking hold of Sam's wrist and pulling him over to one of the two large, comfortable leather sofas in the room.

Sam wondered vaguely if his dad was referring to the fact that he'd be _sorry _in a minute or _hurt_ in a minute – the teen had the unwelcome feeling that both would apply.

John seated himself and pulled his youngest over his lap, wasting no time before beginning swatting the denim-clad rear in front of him. He lectured as he spanked.

"You do not have a temper tantrum and kick things like a three-year-old when you don't get your own way, Samuel Winchester!"

"OWWW…I'm sorry…..OWW….I didn't mean to…."

"Break the lamp? Oh, I know you didn't mean to do that, but that's not the point. Life isn't fair, we can't always get what we want and you need to learn to accept that."

"Yes, sir," muttered Sam, hoping his acquiescence would put a halt to the stinging smacks. It didn't.

John wasn't planning on making this a harsh spanking – he understood why the child was disappointed and felt hard done by and he also knew that breaking the lamp had been unintentional. With this in mind, he continued to spank until he heard the first sniffle and then stopped.

John lifted the boy up and turned him so that he was sitting in his lap. Sam immediately buried his face into his dad's broad shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around the hunter's neck.

It never ceased to amaze John what a change a simple spanking always wrought in his youngest – the kid could be boiling with anger, overflowing with teenaged angst one moment and the next he was a sweet little boy again, all as a result of a few well-placed smacks to his butt.

"Shhh, Sammy, you're okay now. It's all done," soothed John, rubbing gentle circles on the young teen's back.

END OF FLASHBACK

Sam had reluctantly accepted that he couldn't spend the weekend with his friends…until the previous day when his father had unexpectedly set off for a hunt which would take him four or five days at least to complete. Then, a plan had begun to take root in his mind. If both Dad and Dean had been home, Sam would never have risked sneaking out, but with just Dean, he was sure he had a chance of succeeding. Hopefully his father's rigorous stealth training would prove useful!

Sam quietly put on his jacket and collected his backpack, before silently sliding open his window. He was careful not to disturb the salt line as he reached out to grab hold of the nearby large tree branch, so that he could climb down to the ground. With a last glance at the darkened house, Sam set off towards the forest at a slow jog, wanting to get there and join in the fun as quickly as possible.

**Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~**

Dean awoke needing to pee. He quietly made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself. On his way back to his bedroom, the seventeen-year-old paused outside his little brother's room.

Unbeknownst to Sam, he wasn't the only one who had struggled with having his own bedroom for the first time in his life. Dean hated not having Sammy right there with him, under his nose where he could be sure the kid was safe. The thirteen-year-old wasn't aware of it, but if ever his big brother awoke in the night, he would tiptoe to Sam's room and check on him. John had caught Dean doing it on more than one occasion and always teased his eldest about being over-protective, though secretly he was both relieved and reassured by the devotion that Dean showed towards his little brother.

Dean quietly pushed open the door a crack to peek in only to fling it wide open a second later on spotting the empty bed.

"Sammy?"

Dean moved immediately over to the open window and looked out, noticing as he did so the undisturbed line of salt. Dean swore. He had no doubt that his baby brother had snuck out – if something or someone had tried to take Sam against his will, he would have put up a fight and Dean would have heard something. He also remembered that Sam had wandered straight to his bedroom, still wearing his jacket when he had returned from the library earlier that day, instead of taking it off and hanging it on the coat-stand in the hallway like usual. He hadn't thought anything about it at the time, but Dean was now sure that that move had been deliberate.

_But where the hell would the kid have gone?_

Dean knew that the chances of finding Sam where slim – he could be anywhere! But he couldn't just hang around doing nothing. The thought of the kid wandering the streets in the middle of the night was enough to send him into a sheer panic – and for once, he was more worried about humans than supernatural creatures. Sam was just a child (no matter what said child thought to the contrary) – he was innocent and also incredibly small for his age, looking more like a ten or eleven-year-old than his actual age of thirteen.

Dean quickly dressed and grabbed the keys for the Impala, intending on cruising the streets in the hope he'd find some sign of Sam_. If something had happened to him…._ Dean cut off that thought, refusing to even contemplate it. _Sam had to be okay, he just had to be!_

**Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~**

Sam climbed back up the tree and through his bedroom window. He was happy. He'd had an amazing time with his friends. They'd toasted marshmallows on the campfire and pigged out on potato chips. They'd also partaken in the longstanding tradition of telling ghost stories around the fire, which had had Sam laughing on the inside at some of the ridiculous tales – Tony and Brady obviously knew nothing at all about _real_ ghosts.

Sam wondered if he dared slip out again to join them the following night, or would that just be tempting fate? He kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed. The boy was asleep within fifteen minutes of his head hitting the pillow.

**Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~**

Dean drove back towards the house, his knuckles white as he clutched the steering wheel. The longer Sammy was unaccounted for, the more his fear grew. He had it on tight lockdown, otherwise he was certain it would overwhelm him. There had been no sight or sound of his baby brother anywhere. He had driven passed the kids friends' houses, but both properties had been quiet and in total darkness. He had also checked back home twice in case the teen had returned in the meanwhile. Dean had already decided that if the kid hadn't turned up by morning he would ring their Dad.

This time, when Dean pushed open his brother's bedroom door, he stopped dead and held his breath, convinced that his mind was just showing him what he wanted to see. When the image of the lump in the bed didn't vanish, Dean slowly let it out, overpowering relief flooding through him.

_Thank God he was safe!_

Sam was evidently fast asleep and Dean tiptoed over to the side of the bed. He anxiously studied the teen, checking for signs of injuries, relieved to find none.

Sam looked so young and vulnerable in sleep – his bangs were falling over his forehead and his cheeks were slightly flushed. Dean did something he wouldn't be caught dead doing if the kid was actually awake. He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to the boy's forehead, before quietly retiring to his own room.

**Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~**

"Sleep well, Sam?" queried Dean, looking up from the TV at his younger brother, as he entered the living room, yawning, his hair sticking out in all directions, which under other circumstances Dean would secretly have found endearing. As it was, Dean wasn't in the mood to find Sam cute, but more to kick his baby brother's ass.

"Yeah, you?" Sam ran a hand through his hair, sending it into even more disarray. He then rubbed his eyes sleepily with his fists looking all of seven-years-old.

"Me? Yeah, I slept just fine."

Sam was still half-asleep and didn't pick up on the fact that his brother's voice had been laced with sarcasm. "I'm just gonna go get a shower."

"You do that," muttered Dean under his breath as his brother left the room, "then we'll have ourselves a nice little chat."

Sam reappeared half an hour later, dressed and looking much more awake. Dean waited until the teen had eaten breakfast before broaching the subject of his whereabouts the night before.

"So Sam," he began when the kid entered the living room, "anything interesting happen last night?"

Sam froze, looking exactly like a deer caught in the headlights, before quickly recovering himself. _Dean didn't know. He couldn't!_ "No. Why do you ask? Did something happen to you?"

Dean pretended to think. "Well I took a nice drive all around town. Do you have any idea why I might have done that, junior?"

Sam felt his heart drop into his shoes and swallowed nervously. _It wasn't possible!_ "No." The word came out as a squeak and Sam cursed himself inwardly – if Dean hadn't been suspicious before, he would be now.

"Really? Well let me fill you in then. My little brother decided to go walkabout in the middle of the night. Now where were you? And don't you dare lie to me!"

"It's no big deal, Dean," tried Sam, not liking his brother's harsh tone.

"No big deal? Anything could have happened to you! Now start talking."

"Nothing happened. I can look after myself! I do know self-defence you know!"

Dean took a threatening step towards his brother. "Fine. I'll spank first and we can talk later."

"Noooo! Wait," pleaded Sam, relieved when his brother halted his advance. He knew he'd have to try and talk his way out of this and he knew exactly how to play on his brother's sympathies. "I went camping with my friends, that's all….I know you love camping too. We were perfectly safe and they had permission. I asked Dad a few days ago, while you were doing the grocery run, but he said no, because no adults were going, but that wasn't fair. I mean, we're the same age, so we should be treated the same. So….I….errr….well…"

"You decided you'd go anyway," cut in Dean.

Sam nodded, looking up at his brother through his bangs, trying to gauge his older brother's mood.

"Come here, Sammy."

"Why?" Sam's voice was again a squeak.

"Because I'm going to spank you."

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean, come on," he whined, hoping reasoning would work in his favour, "I'm too old for a spanking now, surely you see that? You could ground me instead?"

None of Sam's friends received babyish punishments like he did – they were only ever grounded or had privileges withdrawn (and from what Sam understood, punishment was reserved only for very serious infractions), unlike the outdated Winchester approach which consisted not only of those, but also corner-time, being sent to bed early and worst of all the dreaded ass-up-over-the-knee treatment.

Dean quirked his eyebrows. "Too old, huh? You really think so?"

Sam nodded. _His brother was actually listening to him – maybe, just maybe he'd see reason?_ Dean's next words dashed his fragile hope.

"So how does that work then? How can _you_ be too old when Dad blistered my butt last month and I'm _seventeen_?"

"Well, you've slipped out too, more than once. I know you have."

"Yeah, and Dad tanned my hide good and proper for it every single time, which you also know."

"Yeah, but you're not Dad," pointed out Sam reasonably.

"Maybe not, but I also wasn't _just turned thirteen_." Dean had indeed snuck out on a few occasions since the age of fifteen and a half - every time to rendezvous with a pretty girl. Somehow or other, the omnipotent John Winchester had always found out and Dean still couldn't quite decide if the pleasure of the making-out session was worth the butt blistering he was given afterwards. Remembering the fear that he had felt upon finding Sam missing, Dean felt guilt wash over him. _Was that how his Dad felt when he'd snuck out?_

"Yeah, I'm _thirteen_, a young _adult,_ not some little kid. Stop treating me like a baby!" huffed Sam indignantly.

"I'm not treating you like anything. You broke the rules, so now you gotta face the consequences, kiddo."

"I don't want you to spank me, Dean," pouted Sam.

"Tough," replied Dean unsympathetically, "you should have thought of that before your little midnight escapade."

Seeing Dean's stern, set expression, Sam held his hands out placatingly in front of him. "Come on, man. Can't we talk about this?"

"Enough talking. Now get your disobedient little butt over here so I can whack it." Dean crooked his finger at him.

Sam tried to make a break for the door – why he did it, the boy wasn't quite sure, as it would only delay the inevitable.

Dean however moved quicker than a striking snake and before the thirteen-year-old could make good his escape, his brother had his forearm in a vice-like grip.

"Oh, no you don't," growled Dean towing the resisting teen towards the nearest large leather sofa.

Usually Sam would be asked to lose his jeans before the spanking started, but considering the fact that the kid had just tried to do a runner, Dean didn't trust Sam not to try and make another getaway attempt if he let go of his arm – _the kid would just have to lose the jeans at a later date, but lose them he would._

With a firm tug, Dean pulled Sam across his lap and then shifted him slightly until the boy's backside was in perfect position.

"I know you understand why you're getting spanked, so let's just get this over with," said Dean grimly, looping his left arm around his brother's slim waist and effectively locking him into position.

The first few times Dean had spanked Sam after being given permission to discipline him, the child had fought the position tooth and nail, but he had finally accepted that resistance was futile. There was no way he could ever overcome his brother's superior physical strength.

Now, Sam always tried his other almost-insurmountable weapon instead – the puppy-eyes.

Sam raised his shoulders as much as he could in this humiliating position in order to turn his head and look up at his brother. "Please, Dean," he begged, "I'm sorry. I won't ever sneak out again, I promise!"

"I'm sorry too, Sammy. You have no idea how much I hate doing this." He raised his hand and snapped it down, applying the first stinging swat. He used a little more force than he usually did at the beginning of a spanking in order to compensate for the thick layer of denim.

Sam bit back a yelp as his brother's hard hand connected with his buttocks for the first time. The boy was one hundred per cent certain that Dean didn't hate this as much as he did! The first painful swat heralded the descent of many more. Sam was soon squirming across his brother's knees as the blaze in his backside steadily intensified.

"OWWW…enough, Dean…..Ungh….I'm sorry….OWWW….please….Yeow….no more OWWW….I won't do it again….OUCH….that's enough, Dean….Ungh…."

Dean was used to his little brother making a lot of noise whenever he was being spanked, in fact, he'd worry if he didn't. "I'll decide when it's enough, Sammy, and we're nowhere near yet, I'm afraid."

Sam's heart sank_. Nowhere near? But it hurt so much already!_ The next moment, Sam panicked even further as he felt Dean slide the hand that he had been swatting with underneath him and fumble with the button of his jeans. It didn't matter to Sam that in the past, Dean had always spanked him jeanless, it just hurt that much already that the teen wasn't prepared to lose the added layer of protection, so he began to struggle in earnest, trying to free himself.

"No, Dean!"

Dean was taken by surprise at his younger brother's unexpected sudden revolt and it was only his quick hunting reflexes that enabled him to keep the boy in position across his lap.

"Settle down, Sammy," instructed Dean sternly, "or your underwear can come down too."

Sam froze. _Dean wouldn't, would he?_ His brother had never before spanked him on the bare and Sam was pretty sure it was just an empty threat, but he wasn't prepared to take the risk – that would be beyond humiliating!

As soon as he felt the boy still, Dean deftly unfastened his button and zipper before quickly shucking the young teen's jeans down to his knees. Without pausing, Dean immediately recommenced swatting, hard and fast over Sam's briefs. He hated hurting his brother and just wanted to get this over with.

At the renewed onslaught, Sam buried his head in the crook of his elbow, muffling his yelps and howls, his legs now kicking slightly as each stinging slap landed. Dean moved his spanks from the crest of his brother's buttocks down to his upper thighs and back up, listening carefully to the boy's breathing patterns. Dean couldn't wait for the kid to cry so that he could finally end the spanking. Sam was breathing irregularly, but as yet there were no tell-tale hitches or sniffles.

"Are you going to sneak out again, Sammy?"

Sam's response was immediate. "OWW, no, Dean. Never. Ungh. I swear! Please stop, OWW…."

Dean ignored his little brother's pleading and continued to apply stinging swats with painful regularity. "Have you any idea how worried I was about you?"

Sam didn't feel like a self-righteous teenager any longer – no, he felt like a thoroughly chastised little boy. He knew his brother loved him (even if Dean did avoid the **'L'** word like the plague!) and he felt really wretched that he had caused his brother to worry and had betrayed his trust by sneaking out on his watch. If anything had happened to him, Sam knew without a doubt that his big brother would have blamed himself, even though it would have been totally his own fault. He felt the first tears pricking behind his eyes when his brother paused to give his sensitive sit-spots some extra attention and he gave a whispered hiccupped sob.

Dean, attuned to his brother as he always was, caught the slight sound and heaved a silent sigh of relief. He finished off the spanking by applying a further thirteen swats, one for each year of his life. He didn't make them harder as his father would have done in order to leave a lasting impression, but neither did he lessen the force behind them either. He applied five of the swats to the fleshy part of Sam's bottom and the final eight direct to his sensitive sit-spots. By the time he landed the last smack, Sam was sobbing properly.

"It's okay now," Dean soothed, pulling the crying child up into his arms, "It's all done now. It's over." Dean always found himself unconsciously channelling the words of John Winchester after a spanking.

Sam burrowed into his big brother's chest, seeking reassurance and acceptance. His tears continued to fall unerringly – his backside on fire.

"I'm so s-s-sorry, D-dean," he sobbed.

"Shhh, Sammy, I know you are. It's all right now. The slate's wiped clean." Dean had one arm wrapped tightly around his little brother and was carding the fingers of his other hand gently through the boy's tousled chestnut locks, knowing that the movement had always calmed the child.

Sam's sobs slowly ebbed and at last he pulled away to look up at his big brother, wiping his nose on his sleeve and looking much younger than his thirteen years.

"So we're good, Dean?" Sam needed the reassurance.

Dean smiled down at his little brother and gently thumbed away the remnants of his tears. "Yeah, Sammy, we're good."

Sam nodded in response, a dimpled smile lighting up his young face, as he slipped off his brother's lap. He kicked off his jeans and picked them up before walking stiffly from the room.

Dean glanced up from where he was seated on the sofa watching TV as Sam re-entered the room. The kid had washed his face, though it was still obvious he had been crying, and changed into some sweats, which had been preferable to attempting to pull stiff denim over his scorched behind. Whenever their father was away and it was just the two of them, they would usually take a sofa each so that they could sprawl unimpeded. But now, Sam made a beeline straight for the sofa that his brother was already occupying. The boy grimaced as he sat down, quickly tucking his feet under him and snuggling against Dean's side, effectively alleviating the pressure on his tender rump by transferring his body weight onto his hip.

"What're we watching?" he asked, glancing at the TV set.

Dean relished the feeling of Sam nestled safe against him. At thirteen, the boy was slowly but surely distancing himself from overt physical contact, and Dean missed his little brother's impulsive hugs and kisses from when he was younger. After a spanking though, the kid always regressed and became clingy, craving affection.

"You okay?" asked Dean seriously.

"No, my backside hurts, you jerk!" But Sam was smiling as he replied, looking up at his brother cheekily from underneath his bangs.

"Serves you right, bitch" replied Dean with a teasing grin, ruffling Sam's hair affectionately before dropping his arm casually around the younger boy's shoulders.


End file.
